


Set Free

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Complete, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 7,447 2k3 verse<br/>Summary: As the Turtles work to elude Bishop's men, Don takes a dangerous chance by disobeying orders and going to look for Leatherhead.<br/>Yaoi Pairing: Leatherhead/Donatello<br/>Rating varies per part: PG-13 to NC-17<br/>This was written as a birthday gift for the amazing Momorawrr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview art created for this fic by the amazing MomoRawrr  
> 

            Splitting up during a fight was absolutely the last thing the brothers ever chose to do.  They were a team; they fought best as a team, and they thought best as a team.  Leonardo understood the mechanics of divide and conquer and he was adamant that his team avoid being caught by that trick.

            Sometimes though it was a tactic that they had to fall back on; the final weapon in their arsenal, a last resort.  Tonight was one of those times.

            Bishop’s men had chased them into the tunnels and it quickly became obvious that staying together limited their ability to dodge the soldiers.  The Agent had pulled out all the stops in his attempt to catch them by sending every available man and every technical tool in his arsenal into the sewers after the brothers.

            Leo had explained in a quick harsh whisper that it was time to resort to stealth.  He instructed each of his brothers to take a different route through the tunnels in order to bypass Bishop’s people.  With a final hard look at Raph, the leader had reiterated the need to avoid a fight at all costs; they had to be ghosts.

            He didn’t have to tell them not to lead Bishop back to the lair, but he did say that they shouldn’t stray too far off of the course they were assigned to take.  Leo told them that would give the remaining brothers a place to start their search if one of them didn’t make it home.

            After that they had quickly clasped hands, faces grim, and then dashed off in opposite directions.  Almost an hour had passed since then and Donatello hadn’t seen or heard another thing from his brothers.

            Part of Leo’s instructions was to avoid using their shell cells because Bishop might be able to track the signal.  Don was afraid his brother was right; if anyone could find the shell cell’s frequency, it was Bishop.  Leo had also said that if they were in imminent danger of being caught to go ahead and send a group text containing their special code phrase, giving the remaining turtles a chance to come to the rescue.

            Normally Donatello was the brother who always followed Leo’s instructions to the letter, but he wasn’t doing that at the moment.  He had a bigger priority; in fact it was a seven foot, three hundred pound priority who went by the name of Leatherhead.

            With so many of Bishop’s people in the sewers it was possible they might accidently run across the giant crocodile and Bishop wanted LH as badly as he wanted them.

            Leatherhead had a propensity for wandering the sewers at night in search of items he could take back to his lab.  Don hoped he’d find LH in the abandoned subway station the croc called home so he could warn him to stay put.  Otherwise, Don had no idea where to look for him.

            The sound of something sloshing through the water up ahead reached Don’s sensitive hearing and he swiftly pulled on his Shuko spikes.  Careful to make no sound, Don climbed the nearest tunnel wall and then flattened himself on the ceiling, using the uneven rocks as braces for his feet.

            A second later a contingent of Bishop’s men passed underneath him, their search lights sweeping through the tunnel without touching Don’s hiding spot.  When they disappeared around the next bend, Don dropped silently to the ground, glad that none of Bishop’s people had ever had any ninja training.

            Senses on high alert, Don proceeded on, determined to reach Leatherhead.  Even though he knew his brothers would have understood Don’s concern for his friend’s safety, the genius turtle hadn’t told them he was going to check on Leatherhead.

            Don and Leatherhead had been spending a lot of time together over the last few months, so much time that his brothers had started to razz him about it.  If Don wasn’t at Leatherhead’s lair, then LH was at his.

            The other turtles had teasingly accused Don of turning into a geek snob and trying to distance himself from them because they weren’t geniuses.  It was true that Don enjoyed the intellectual stimulation he got from LH’s conversations, but there was more to it than that.  Don was afraid that if he showed how apprehensive he was over Leatherhead’s safety, his brothers might guess that Don had feelings for the big guy.

            It was true too; Don had discovered that he had developed a romantic attachment to Leatherhead.  He hadn’t let on to LH about the change in his feelings; Don didn’t want LH to think he was some kind of pervert.  Don’s biggest fear was that LH would be so disgusted with his twisted desires that the croc wouldn’t want anything more to do with him.

            Don was embarrassed enough by his inability to stop thinking about LH in an erotic way.  Too often his personal fantasies had led to a quick trip to the bathroom and either a long, cold shower or a few minutes with his hand. 

            Even though Don had told himself that feeling that way about a giant croc was stupid, he still couldn’t turn off his imagination.  Shell, if they weren’t both mutated, Leatherhead wouldn’t have hesitated to _eat_ Donatello.

            His thoughts took Don to within a mile of Leatherhead’s lair before he heard some more unusual sounds in front of him.  Don was about to hide again when he realized that what he was hearing sounded like a fight.

            In another second a loud roar shook the tunnel walls hard enough to dislodge dirt from them.  Heart suddenly racing, Don darted towards the sound, recognizing the voice as that of his best friend.

            Don almost ran head on into a squadron of Bishop’s soldiers.  The only reason they didn’t see the frantic turtle was because they were actively engaged in a battle with an extremely angry mutant crocodile.

            Skidding to a stop, Don backpedaled until he was at a bend in the tunnel and then pressed himself against the wall, sticking just his head out so he could see what was happening.

            It was obvious that if Don jumped into the fight they would both wind up being taken down by Bishop’s men.  LH was slamming the soldiers around whenever he could reach them, but they were using large Taser pistols on the crocodile to keep him from making a break for freedom.

            Then Don saw why they were keeping him from moving.  In another moment, one of the soldiers snapped a tranquilizer dart into a rifle and shot Leatherhead right in the neck with it.

            Enraged, all Don could do was squeeze his bo staff until his knuckles turned white as he watched the light fade from Leatherhead’s eyes.  With a last mournful growl, Leatherhead collapsed in an unconscious heap and Don watched as Bishop’s men surrounded the crocodile he loved.

TBC………….


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1,563 2k3 verse  
> Summary: As the Turtles work to elude Bishop's men, Don takes a dangerous chance by disobeying orders and going to look for Leatherhead.

            Donatello watched as Bishop’s people tied Leatherhead’s wrists together and then wrapped heavy cords around his tail and legs.  When they had him completely trussed, six of them lifted the giant crocodile onto an air dolly, using the hovercraft like device to lift his weight a couple of feet off the ground.

            It took all of Don’s self-restraint not to dart out in front of them as one of the men used a remote control device to guide the air dolly through the tunnel.

            This situation was the perfect test for a true ninja; a trained fighter who faced overwhelming odds, not like the samurai did in a headlong battle, but with stealth assault.  Don laughed to himself, wasn’t that what Leo had instructed them to do?  To resort to stealth?

            Don waited for the contingent of Bishop’s men to pass his hiding place, counting heads as they went by.  There were thirteen men in the group.  Fortunately, Don wasn’t superstitious but he intended to arrange things so that these men would start questioning their luck.

            Once the last man had passed him, Don stepped out of the shadows.  Creeping up behind the soldier, Don tapped him on the shoulder.  When the man turned his head, Don smashed a work hardened fist into his temple.  The man sank unconscious to the ground and Don quickly dragged him out of sight.

            Rolling the man against a wall, Don took a second to strip his headphone off and place it on his own head.  Making sure the microphone was switched to mute Don listened to the babble of instructions flowing between various groups, relieved that none reported having caught a turtle.

            Taking a quick deep breath, Don slithered back in behind the men who had Leatherhead, happy to see that none of them had noticed that they were missing a comrade.  The next two in line walked side by side and Don knew he had to take them out simultaneously so that they wouldn’t make noise.

            Timing his steps with theirs, Don suddenly sprang in between them, his left and right hands going unerringly for the pressure points on their exposed necks.  Neither made a sound as they collapsed at Don’s feet.

            One by one, or in pairs if necessary, Don picked off Bishop’s men.  He used every tactic his sensei had ever taught him on the art of silent fighting, taking the soldiers down as quickly as he could because he didn’t know when they might be joined by others.  Or even Bishop himself.

            Finally there were only two left; a man out in front of the air dolly and the man with the remote who walked directly behind it.

            There was no way for Don to remain undetected once he knocked out the man who had the remote control.  It didn’t matter though; the odds were now in Don’s favor.

            Pulling his bo staff, Don gave out a soft whistle.  The man with the remote looked to his left and right and then spun around as he realized he was practically alone.  There was only enough time for his eyes to widen in stunned surprise before Don smacked his forehead with the end of the bo.

            Don caught the air dolly remote as it fell from the unconscious man’s fingers.  Pressing one of the buttons, Don brought the dolly to a halt.  The remaining soldier immediately noticed the cessation of sound and turned.  As soon as his eyes fell on Don, he lifted his Taser pistol and fired.

            Dropping to the ground, Don used the dolly as a shield and started to pull a shuriken from his belt but stopped when he saw the tranquilizer rifle on the ground.  Grabbing it quickly, he yanked the box of darts off of the unconscious soldiers’ belt and loaded one of them into the rifle.

            Don heard the soldier move closer, firing over the air dolly in an attempt to keep the turtle pinned down.  Timing the shots, Don waited for that millisecond of opportunity, the rifle in position so he wouldn’t waste time swinging it around.

            Right as the next Taser blast left the pistol Don jumped to his feet and fired.  The dart hit the man just under his collarbone and he was out cold almost as soon as the heavy dose of tranquilizer entered his bloodstream.

            There was no time to waste; Don had no idea if Bishop was on the way to meet these men.  Whatever instructions they’d been given, they’d received them before Don got his hands on the headphones.

            He took a moment to check Leatherhead’s vital signs, peeling back an eyelid and noting that the big croc was still out of it.  With the small backup blade he carried in his belt, Don cut the bindings on Leatherhead’s wrists and legs and then used the remote to move the air dolly down the tunnel.

            Since they were only about a half mile away from LH’s lair, Don took his friend in that direction, hoping that Bishop’s men hadn’t found it and chased the croc from there.  It was a chance he’d have to take because there was nowhere else to hide and LH wasn’t mobile enough to run for it.

            Given a few spare moments Don could have modified the air dolly to go faster, but all he could do was curse under his breath at their slow progress.  At least he could listen in to what Bishop’s people were doing and hope that he’d have plenty of forewarning if they got close.

            Almost ten minutes later Don heard Leatherhead groan before settling down again.  Much to Don’s relief it appeared the tranquilizer was starting to wear off.  In another minute the tip of the croc’s tail twitched and he shifted slightly, rocking the air dolly.

            “It’s okay Leatherhead, I’m here,” Don said in a soft voice, hoping to calm his friend.  It seemed to work as LH stopped moving.

            Don managed to take three more steps before Leatherhead let out a loud roar and sprang off of the air dolly.  His massive tail lashed out, catching the dolly and flipping it right at Donatello.

            Ducking swiftly, Don tossed the remote aside, feeling various parts of the dolly hit his shell as it smashed to pieces on the wall behind him.  Leatherhead’s pupils were thin slits of dark rage as he threw his head back to release another echoing roar.

            “Leatherhead please!” Don called out.  “It’s me, it’s Donatello!  Stop, please stop before they hear you!”

            Leatherhead’s arms came down, his fists gradually opening as he turned to look at Don.  Slowly the pupils changed to a rounded shape, turning a placid green as the rage left him.

            With his fury went the adrenaline that kept him on his feet and Leatherhead sank to his knees.  Don rushed over to catch him before he fell onto his face.

            “Don . . . Donatello?” Leatherhead stammered, looking at his friend as though seeing a mirage.

            “I’m really here,” Don said.  “Bishop’s men were searching for my brothers and me when they found you.  We split up to avoid them and I was on my way to warn you not to leave your lair but they got to you first.”

            “I was already in the tunnels,” Leatherhead said.  “As far as I know they have not found my home.”

            “Then we should get there as soon as possible,” Don told him.  “I’m keeping track of the soldier’s with these headphones I stole, but they’re all around us.  We need to hide.”

            “Go quickly, Donatello.  I cannot run, I can still feel the power of the tranquilizer they shot into me,” Leatherhead said.

            “I’m not going anywhere without you,” Don said emphatically.  “Get up and lean on me; we’re getting away from here together.”

            “No.  I will not risk your life,” Leatherhead said, trying to push Don away.  “Get away while you can.”

            “I told you I’m not leaving,” Don returned stubbornly.  “You’ve risked your life for us, for me, too many times and that’s a burden I won’t bear again.  Now get up!  Get mad at me if you have to, but get up!”

            A shout sounded in the headphones and then Don heard someone reporting that they’d found the first solder that Don had knocked out.  LH’s head was down and he was shaking it as though trying the clear the cobwebs.

            Don began tugging frantically at Leatherhead’s arm, growing more fearful as LH seemed unable to gain his feet.

            “I cannot . . . .” Leatherhead began.

            “They’re coming!  If you don’t get up they’ll capture both of us because I won’t leave you!” Don shouted at him.

            Leatherhead growled suddenly, his body growing tense.  Don could see his eyes start to change, but refused to let go of the croc’s arm when LH jumped up from the ground.

            “They will not get you!” Leatherhead thundered, his voice bouncing off of the walls.

            Unsure of what Leatherhead meant to do, Don pulled at his arm, guiding LH in the direction of the big guy’s home.  The crocodile looked back over his shoulder and then allowed Don to lead him, following the turtle in a loping run.

            Not far behind them they heard the sound of many pairs of booted feet charging in their direction.

TBC……………..


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1,320 2k3 verse  
> Summary: As the Turtles work to elude Bishop's men, Don takes a dangerous chance by disobeying orders and going to look for Leatherhead.

            As Don and Leatherhead ran past the tranquilized soldier, Don leaned down and grabbed the Taser pistol.  A glance verified that it was modified alien tech; probably something Bishop had acquired during the Triceraton invasion.

            Donatello’s hearing was acute enough for him to determine how close Bishop’s men were to catching them.  Leatherhead was still groggy, but his anger kept him on his feet.  If those men managed to get within striking distance of the pair, Don was afraid that LH would shove him aside and charge into battle with them.  That was something Don hoped to avoid.

            The Taser was little good to him in a fight, his would be one against many and that made the odds unfavorable.  However, if Don used the Taser in a different way, he could buy them enough time to get away.

            “I need my hands LH.  Can you manage on your own for a couple of minutes?” Don asked, looking up at his friend with concern.

            Leatherhead grunted and slid away from Don.  “Yes,” he answered, though he wore a slightly pained expression.

            “Don’t stop moving,” Don admonished, watching the large croc shuffle forward.

            While he spoke encouragements to Leatherhead, Don was busy opening the Taser.  His keen eyes swept over the operating components, picking out the power cell and noting exactly how the energy was disbursed.

            It was but the work of a moment for Don to circumvent the energy disbursal center.  As the pair rounded a corner, Don heard a shout from behind them and he realized they’d been spotted.

            “Donatello,” Leatherhead rumbled in warning.

            “Go!  As fast as you can!” Don exclaimed.  “I’ll be right next to you!”

            Leatherhead immediately dropped to all fours and bounded forward.  Don jammed the firing mechanism and then pulled the Taser’s trigger.  The power charge, with no place to go, began to spark inside the weapon as its core overloaded.

            With a quick over hand toss, Don threw the Taser behind him into the center of the tunnel and then raced to catch up with Leatherhead.  A tranquilizer dart hit the wall near Don’s head, spraying him with dirt, and then a concussion of sound hit him as the Taser exploded. 

            The ground seemed to dance out from under his feet and Don stumbled before regaining his footing.  Chunks of earth, rock, and concrete rained down in the tunnel just behind him.

            Don looked ahead and saw that Leatherhead had stopped in order to wait for him.  “That was quite brilliant my friend,” Leatherhead said as he took several deep breaths, working to hold back the worst of his violent fury.

            “We’re not safe yet,” Don said grimly, listening to reports over the headphones.  “Other soldiers have been ordered to converge on this location.  They’re probably hoping to cut us off.”

            “We must hurry,” Leatherhead said urgently.  “The entrance to my home is nearby but we do not want to be seen entering.”

            Don nodded and began jogging alongside his friend.  In another couple of minutes they reached a wide, brick lined tunnel which had at one time been an entrance into the old subway station.  Leatherhead reached high up on the wall and pushed against a series of bricks, the pattern a code that opened the camouflaged door to his lair.

            A portion of the wall slid smoothly aside and the pair quickly stepped past it.  The door immediately slid shut behind them, a timing design that had been built by Donatello.

            As soon as the wall closed Leatherhead’s eyes shifted completely back to normal and he began to sway on his feet.

            “Come on LH,” Don said, once more sliding under his friend’s arm in order to steady him.  “Time for you to lie down.”

            “Perhaps for a moment, my friend,” Leatherhead said with a sigh, allowing Don to lead him towards the space that served as his bedroom.

            Since Leatherhead did not like enclosed spaces, his bedroom was an alcove off of the main floor.  There was no door, but a set of heavy drapes covered the primary opening, giving him privacy without the trapped feeling of a closed room.

            Don pushed the drapes aside and helped Leatherhead onto the pile of mattress and pillows that served as his bed.

            “There, how does that feel?” Don asked as he pulled a light sheet over the crocodile.

            “Thank you, Donatello.  I am fine, truly I am.  The tranquilizer they shot me with has left me feeling slightly tired.  A short nap should help clear my body of the residual effects,” Leatherhead told him.

            “Sleep then and don’t worry about anything,” Don said quietly.

            “I appreciate . . . your thoughtfulness,” Leatherhead murmured as he fell asleep.

            Don waited a moment, watching Leatherhead for signs of distress.  After a few minutes it was obvious the crocodile was sleeping peacefully and Don couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and press his hand against Leatherhead’s face.

            When Don straightened to leave the room, he noticed a small crate near the bedding and realized it probably served as Leatherhead’s night stand.  There was a picture frame sitting on it, but Don couldn’t see the picture because it was angled towards the bed.

            Glancing at Leatherhead, Don stepped over and lifted the frame, turning it so he could see the picture.  It was a candid shot of Donatello himself, obviously taken unbeknownst to the turtle.

            Cheeks coloring with a blush, Don carefully placed the picture frame exactly as he’d found it and backed out of the room.

            Even if Don could have left LH’s lair to go home, he wouldn’t have.  Leatherhead was out of it and Don wanted to make sure there weren’t any lasting effects from the Taser shots he’d taken or from the tranquilizer.  In his current condition, Leatherhead was in no shape to defend himself from intruders.  Don hoped his family wouldn’t worry too much, but he wasn’t going to leave his friend lying there defenseless.

            Don looked around Leatherhead’s home for a moment, feeling somewhat at a loss.  He hadn’t expected to do more than warn Leatherhead about Bishop and then go home as Leo had instructed.

            One by one his brothers would make it home, each worried about the others until they were all safely in the lair.  It had been at least two hours since they’d split up and Don figured he had a couple more before they started to worry about him.  They would probably wait one more after that before they came out of hiding to look for him.

            Even if he was sure they were all home Don couldn’t risk sending a message or making a call.  The last thing he wanted was for Bishop’s technicians to trace his signal and find the turtle’s and the crocodile’s lairs.

            Turning towards the area that Leatherhead had converted into a kitchen, Don decided to prepare a meal for his friend.  He was pretty sure LH wouldn’t feel up to it when he woke and a little comfort food always helped to make things better.

            Don found a large, clean pot that he could use to hold the soup he planned to make and set it on the stove.  He wasn’t familiar with what Leatherhead kept in his larder or his refrigerator, so Don headed to the fridge first to take a quick inventory.

            Opening the fridge door, Don glanced inside, noting that Leatherhead kept things tidy and well-organized.  He pulled out several bags of vegetables and had just closed the door when a shadow fell across it.

            With no room to maneuver, Don dropped the vegetables and whipped out his bo staff as he wheeled around.  His one thought was to fend off the intruder and get to Leatherhead before any more of Bishop’s men arrived.

            Don didn’t take more than a step before he was forced back against the refrigerator door.

TBC……………


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1,256 2k3 verse  
> Summary: As the Turtles work to elude Bishop's men, Don takes a dangerous chance by disobeying orders and going to look for Leatherhead.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview art created by the very talented MomoRawrr  
> 

            Don’s mouth went dry, his shell tapping out a staccato beat on the refrigerator door as he tried to shift positions.  Then he realized that he was cornered not by some government infiltrator, but by his friend Leatherhead.

            The large crocodile’s eyes were glazed over; his mouth partially open.  Rows of sharp teeth sparkled in the incandescent lights.  Leatherhead’s hands lifted to reach for Donatello, his fingers tipped with claws both hard and sharp enough to slice through the turtle’s shell.

            “L . . . Leatherhead,” Don stammered, hoping to snap the croc out of his daze before he turned the young turtle into confetti.

            Leatherhead moved closer still, giving Don no room to maneuver out of his reach.  Part of Don’s mind told him to lift his bo and defend himself, but another part froze him with indecision.

            As Leatherhead’s hands closed on Don’s shoulders, the young genius shut his eyes to await the inevitable.

            “You did not leave me,” Leatherhead said, his voice deep with emotion.

            Don’s eyes popped open just as Leatherhead pulled him into a rough embrace.  The bo staff was still in Don’s hands and Leatherhead’s body crushed both against the turtle’s plastron.

            “LH . . . could you . . . back up . . . crushing me,” Don stammered.

            “I am sorry my friend,” Leatherhead apologized, leaning back enough for Don to move his arms and set his bo staff aside.  The croc didn’t relinquish his hold on Donatello though, staying as close as he could as though worried that the turtle would suddenly disappear.

            “Are you okay?” Don asked with concern, noting the odd look his friend was bestowing on him.

            “You stayed with me,” Leatherhead repeated.  He sounded both surprised and in awe of that fact.

            “Of course I did,” Don said with a slight frown.  “I’ll never again leave you when you need me.  I’ve watched a tunnel fall in on you because you wanted to save us; I’ve seen you almost blown to bits by a crazy hunter because you were protecting my brothers and me, and I’ve watched you disappear during a battle with the Shredder.  I’m not doing that anymore; it’s too painful for me to think that I’ve lost you.”

            It was more than he meant to say but Don said it with feeling.  Having LH so near brought back all of the desires that Don had been trying to hide and he couldn’t keep up pretenses any more.

            “Much better that I am lost and not you,” Leatherhead told him, his tone sorrowful.

            Don studied him for a moment, sudden hope blossoming in his heart.  “When did you take that picture of me?” Don asked softly.

            Leatherhead looked embarrassed.  “It was not long after we met.  When I see your picture, it makes me feel as though I have family, that I am not alone.  Are you angry?”

            “No, of course not,” Don said, smiling at the croc.  “I’m happy you think of me that way.  I _am_ your family.  We all are.  So please LH, tell me why just a picture of me?”

            Leatherhead ducked his head, avoiding Don’s gaze.  “You have always been special to me.  You are the one I have always connected with.  I never told you because I did not want you to think that I am twisted.  I feared you would never want to see me again.”

            Don couldn’t help but tremble slightly upon hearing Leatherhead’s confession.  For a second he wondered if he was actually dreaming and would awaken to find that none of this had happened.

            Whichever it was, dream or reality, Don wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

            “I’ve been feeling the same way about _you_ ,” Don said, the words tumbling out quickly so that he wouldn’t back out of saying them.  “For a while now I’ve been thinking of you as something more than a friend.  Sometimes I even . . . daydream about us.  I hope you don’t think I’m horrible.”

            Don watched Leatherhead closely as the croc’s head lifted.  Their eyes met and Don could swear he’d never seen LH’s look so _soft_.

            “I could never think that of you,” Leatherhead told him.  “I too have daydreams.  Your visits bring me more happiness than even my Utrom family did.  Spending time with you is my greatest joy.”

            Don felt a sudden flush of heat rise through his body.  “I’ve been trying to find excuses to spend more time with you than normal because I couldn’t bear to be away from you for long.”

            “I too have searched for reasons to be near you,” Leatherhead admitted.  “The days when I cannot be with you feel empty.”

            “When Bishop’s men started pouring into the tunnels, all I could think of was to warn you,” Don said breathlessly, taking a chance as he moved a little closer to Leatherhead.  “The thought that he might capture you again and take you away was unbearable.”

            “I promise that I will go nowhere that is far from you,” Leatherhead said, pressing his snout against Don’s neck and gently nuzzling him.

            Leatherhead’s warm breath against his neck sent a shiver down Donatello’s spine and stiffened his tail.  There was so much more that the young turtle wanted, so many fantasies he’d created in his head that he never thought would come to fruition.  Having LH touch him with such affection had Don hoping for more.

            Growing bold, Don leaned back enough to rub his beak across Leatherhead’s snout.  The crocodiles eyes became hooded with desire as he stood patiently unmoving while Don tried turning his head first one way and then another before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh.

            “I want to kiss you but our mouths just aren’t compatible,” Don told him.

            “Let us try this,” LH said, his voice hoarse as he gently placed his upper lip against Don’s.

            With a palm on Don’s cheek to hold his head steady, Leatherhead flicked his tongue across the turtle’s lower lip until Don opened his mouth.  Easing forward, LH placed his bottom lip against Don’s and slid his tongue past the turtle’s teeth.  Finding Don’s ready tongue, LH stroked it with his own, drawing a needy moan from the smaller reptile.

            The yearning for more had Don trying to tilt his body nearer to the crocs, his hands stroking the scaly skin on Leatherhead’s shoulders.  His touch elicited a deep rumble from Leatherhead and Don answered it with a churr, closing his eyes in order to enjoy each new sensation.

            Don desperately wanted to press his body against Leatherhead’s but found it impossible to do so while they kissed because of their height difference and the shape of LH’s head.  In his mind he visualized Leatherhead on top of him, their bodies rubbing against each other’s as Don lay on his carapace.  Or conversely, LH lying down as Don rode him.

            That mental picture drew another moan from Don and his tongue danced frantically against the croc’s as he tried to convey his urgently growing lust.  He knew that Leatherhead had understood the message when the crocodile’s large hand began to pet Don’s plastron, drifting ever lower.

            Leatherhead broke their kiss to whisper imploringly, “Stay the night with me, my love.”

            The words _‘my_ _love’_ echoed in Don’s skull, nearly erasing every other thought.  With his mind clouded by desire, Don almost forgot something very important.

            Gasping, Don pushed back from Leatherhead, his eyes wide.

            “My brothers!”

TBC……………….


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 2,147 multi-chapter 2k3  
> Summary: As the Turtles work to elude Bishop's men, Don takes a dangerous chance by disobeying orders and going to look for Leatherhead.

            “Donatello, what is wrong?” Leatherhead asked in surprise.

            “My brothers; I have to find a way to reach them and let them know I’m safe so they don’t come looking for me and walk right into Bishop’s people,” Don told him.  “It’s been over two hours since we split up.  They should all be home by now, or getting close to it.”

            Walking around Leatherhead, Don picked up the headphones he’d left lying on the countertop and slipped them back on.

            “If they have been caught, we will rescue them,” Leatherhead said with conviction, earning a grateful smile from the turtle.

            Don listened to the chatter between the different search party groups while LH watched his expression closely.  When Don’s face relaxed, Leatherhead moved next to him and set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

            “They haven’t found anyone,” Don said, looking up into Leatherhead’s eyes.  “Bishop won’t quit though; he’ll be down here for hours because his men saw us.  I can’t call my brother’s on their shell cells; there’s too much of a chance that Bishop’s people will be monitoring every band width.”

            “Agent Bishop is not a man to leave things to chance, I am certain you are correct,” Leatherhead told him.  “You cannot risk leaving here to return home; the tunnels outside of my home will be swarming with Bishop’s troops.”

            “There has to be a way to get a quick message to my brothers, just something that lets them know where I am and that I’ll be staying here until the coast is clear,” Don said, his brow furrowed in thought.

            “Donatello,” Leatherhead said, drawing the turtle’s attention, “please come to my lab with me.  I have been working on a design for a signal scrambler.  Perhaps with your assistance we can create something that will allow you to send a text message that Bishop will not intercept.”

            His expression changing to one of excitement, Don asked, “Do you have enough parts to build something like that?”

            “If I do not, we will take what we need from some of the other things we have built,” Leatherhead said, catching hold of Don’s hand and leading him towards the laboratory where they spent so much of their time when they were together.

            The lab was a comforting place to Don and the pair slipped into their roles as scientists with ease.  They worked so well together that it was almost as if they shared one mind.  While Don reviewed Leatherhead’s scrambler design, the large crocodile gathered the machine parts he knew they would need.

            Often when they worked side by side on something Don would find opportunities to surreptitiously touch Leatherhead, placating his growing desires with the feel of his friend’s rough skin.  Now as they built the device that would let him communicate with his brothers, Don was openly affectionate with the croc.  Leatherhead returned the sentiment, leaning down frequently to nuzzle Don’s neck or to rub his snout beneath Don’s chin.

            Because Leatherhead had already spent some time on the scrambler design, it didn’t take them long to build a working model.  As Don finished soldering the final piece into place, Leatherhead surveyed the tunnels outside of his home via the security cameras he had installed there.

            “See anything?” Don asked, stepping back from his work.

            Leatherhead nodded as he moved away from his monitor.  “Two different groups of Bishop’s soldiers have passed the entrance to my home without finding it.  They appear to be searching at random although I am sure such is not the case.”

            “Bishop probably has them doing that in the hopes that they’ll catch one of us off guard and flush us from our hiding places,” Don said.  Taking a deep breath, he waved a hand at the scrambler.  “It’s as ready as it’ll ever be.  I hope this works or we might just give ourselves away.”

            “I have programmed a secondary failsafe into the device which should further prevent Bishop from tracing your cell signal,” Leatherhead explained.  “While the scrambler itself encodes your messages so that they cannot be unscrambled on anything other than the cell phone you have designated to receive the message, the secondary failsafe goes a step farther.  It sets a time limit on how long your recipient can view your text messages before they are permanently erased.”

            “Will a reply be scrambled as well?” Don asked.

            “A reply to your shell cell will be scrambled.  They should not try to communicate with one another just yet,” Leatherhead said.

            “Let’s try it and see what happens,” Don said.  Touching the stolen headphones that were lying on a table, he added, “I’ll continue to monitor the chatter between Bishop and his people; that should tell us if he’s intercepted any of our transmissions.”

            Retrieving the shell cell from his belt, Don chose the send to group function and typed in a message.

            _“Reply only to me. Signal secured. Msg gone in 10 seconds. I’m safe, r u?”_

            Hitting send, Don waited anxiously, almost forgetting to breathe.  Leatherhead came to stand next to him, sliding a comforting arm around Don’s waist.

            Fifteen seconds passed when words suddenly flashed across the screen on Don’s shell cell.

            _“Yes.  All 3 at lair.  Where r u?”_

            “It’s from Leo!” Don exclaimed, holding the message up for Leatherhead to see.  “They made it!”

            “Bishop,” Leatherhead reminded him.

            “Oh, right.”  Grabbing the headphones, Don listened in on Bishop’s communications.  It only took a few minutes for him to determine that the government people hadn’t picked up on the transmission between the turtles.

            Don swiftly typed in another message.  _“At LH home. Will explain later. Monitoring Bishop; coast will not clear for hours. Stay in lair.”_

            The next message from Leo came quickly.  _“U stay there. Take no chances.  Come home when safe.”_

            A second message came in almost on top of Leo’s.  _“N bring chips.  N pizza.”_   It was from Mikey.

            Both Don and Leatherhead began laughing and Don replied, _“Will do.  Over n out.”_

            Don took the precaution of listening to Bishop’s communications for a little longer before he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.  Leatherhead had gone back to the security monitor and after Don set the headphones aside he walked over to join the croc.

            They stood together quietly watching the screen rotate from camera to camera, each shot displaying a different tunnel.  Once they saw three of Bishop’s men stalking through one of them, their flashlights barely cutting through the dark, dank space.  It pleased Don to no end to think about how cold, wet, and completely uncomfortable those men were right about now.

            “The night is ours, my love,” Leatherhead finally said, his voice soft and low.

            The sound of it sent a shiver of anticipation down Donatello’s spine.  “Our first experiment was a success.  Shall we do another?”

            “I had hoped you would make such a suggestion,” Leatherhead said, turning to pull Don closer.  “The perimeter alarms have been set.  Bring the headphones and you can check on Bishop’s movements . . . _later_.”

            There was such promise and innuendo in that one word that Don felt his legs go rubbery.  When Leatherhead began to rub up against him with his jaw, Don almost lost all muscle control.

            “LH,” Don moaned, wanting desperately to go someplace where he could play out his fantasies.

            Leatherhead responded to Don’s needy moan by scooping the turtle up into his arms.  As they were leaving the lab, Don just barely had the presence of mind to snag the headphones off the table.

            Walking with a purposeful stride towards his bedroom, Leatherhead looked at Don through eyes hooded in lust.  It was enough to make the turtle begin to grow hard under his plastron.

            By the time Leatherhead pushed aside the curtains leading into his bedroom, Don had already removed his own mask, belt, wrist and elbow guards.  Don dropped his gear to the floor as Leatherhead set the turtle in the center of the nest.  As Don placed the headphones on the night stand, Leatherhead took his belt off, his eyes never leaving the supple body on his bed.

            With a deep rumble, Leatherhead crawled onto the mattresses at Don’s feet.  Pushing himself onto his elbows, Don watched as the croc carefully stripped his knee pads from him, seeing a hunger in Leatherhead’s eyes that had Don’s heart pounding.  When the giant crocodiles’ tongue suddenly flicked out and slid along Don’s inner thighs, the turtle gasped and began to squirm in ecstasy.

            When Leatherhead’s tongue found his tail, Don shuddered and fell back against the bedding.  Unable to contain his erection any longer, Don allowed it to slide into the open and then was nearly undone when Leatherhead wrapped his tongue around it.

            “Ah, Ah . . . LH, too much!” Don exclaimed, his churrs nearly drowning out the words.

            “Tell me what you want, my love,” Leatherhead demanded with a deep rumble.

            Panting, Don lifted his head, opening his eyes to see the large croc looming over him.  Leatherhead’s own erection was on proud display; heavy, hard, and huge.  It glistened with moisture, the veins pulsating on skin stretched and straining.

            “Everything,” Don replied in a voice hoarse with desire.  “Pound me into the bed.”

            Spreading his legs wide, Don reached for Leatherhead, hands closing on the crocodile’s sides as Leatherhead positioned himself over the turtle.

            “I am very large,” Leatherhead said, pausing to warn the turtle.  “Once I begin I will not be able to stop.”

            Tilting his hips until he felt the tip of Leatherheads cock touch his entrance, Don begged, “I’ve . . . I’ve practiced, LH.  Hoping for . . . for this.  Take me.”

            Leatherhead’s rumble suddenly deepened as he thrust forward, penetrating the turtle.  Don cried out at his rectal muscles were abruptly stretched, the burn of such a large intrusion making his head spin.

            The crocodile’s movements slowed; his breathing harsh as he obviously tried to hold himself back.  “I . . . do not want to cause you pain, my love.”

            Flushed with need, Don wriggled his hips, trying to grind himself onto Leatherhead’s gloriously huge cock.  “Just hurt for a second,” he said.  “Please keep going.  Please.  F . . . faster.”

            “Yes.”  Growling, Leatherhead began to move again, each thrust hard enough to push Don into the mattress.

            Lifting his legs, Don wrapped them around Leatherhead’s thighs.  Leatherhead drove into him, pounding Don’s ass harder and harder while the turtle squirmed and shouted his approval.

            When a particularly deep thrust struck the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Don, the turtle screamed at the power of his orgasm.  Shaking and moaning, he barely noticed that Leatherhead’s movements had become uneven and frenetic.

            With a roar, Leatherhead came, his thick seed spilling in copious amounts into Donatello.  The turtle’s arms fell to the mattress but his legs continued to grip Leatherhead’s thighs as he waited for his lover’s climax to run its course.

            Leatherhead finally pulled back and slid out of Don’s body.  With his snout he caressed Don’s neck and shoulders, his tongue lapping at the sweat on the turtle’s skin.  Don opened his mouth when Leatherhead’s tongue slid across his lips and they shared a kiss deep with the promise of many more.

            Rolling off of Don, Leatherhead spotted the headphones and lifted them to his ear slits.  He could hear Don’s heavy breathing to one side of him and as he worked to control his own panting breaths, he listened to the chatter between Bishop and his men, enjoying the sounds of their frustration.

            After several moments, Leatherhead set the headphones aside again and curled himself around his lover.  Don looked at him through sleepy eyes, a smile of contentment etched across his lips.

            “I’m going to feel that later,” Don whispered, “and I couldn’t be happier.”

            Once more Leatherhead nuzzled his cheek.  “I have wanted you for so long, my love.”

            “And I you,” Don told him.  “I hate to think of all of the time we’ve wasted because we were afraid to share our feelings with each other.”

            “Perhaps there is a way to make up for that time,” Leatherhead said, his green eyes twinkling.

            Don returned the mischievous look with one of his own.  “Something to erase the deficit perhaps?  What do you propose?”

            “If my calculations are correct, a repeat of our recent activity three to four times a day should bring us back on course,” Leatherhead answered.

            “Three to four times?” Don repeated.  “I approve of your findings and concur.  At the very _least_ three to four.  Possibly more.”

            “Whatever you say, my love,” Leatherhead said, holding Don closer with a contented sigh.

            Don echoed his contentment, once again feeling a tingle of excitement from his loins.

            “Most definitely more,” Don promised.

The End


End file.
